Deception
by RubieVroom
Summary: While investigating a series of robberies, the BAU encounters their most cunning unsub yet. But the case gets considerably more personal and dangerous for one of the agents.
1. Prologue

(Set post season 9, although I didn't include Blake I didn't create a new agent to replace her).

* * *

"Is this seat taken?"

Although the question was in Spanish there was no mistaking that voice. Reid looked up from his book, and smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. A familiar face would do that to you, whether you mean to or not. He put his book down on the table and silently invited her to join him. She sat opposite him and pointed to the full glass in front of him.

"Is that Tequila?" she asked, in English this time, and clearly surprised.

"It's not what I ordered, but my Spanish is abysmal. Of course it is entirely possible that they never heard of Arnold Palmer over here", he said, as both looked around the small café.

Prentiss laughed, took one of his hands in hers and gave it a squeeze.

Taking off his sunglasses, and revealing two black eyes at a late stage of healing, he asked with a small voice; "How did you find me?".

"You might be a genius but I know all the best hiding places", Prentiss answered sadly.

"I'm not hiding", he said, looking straight at her.

"Then what are you doing?", she asked softly.

Reid didn't answer immediately; he looked around again and simply said "I'm waiting".

" 'Attaboy", she said, giving him an encouraging smile. She then reached for his glass and drank his untouched Tequila straight up.


	2. Chapter 1

_All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; _

_when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; _

_when far away, we must make him believe we are near._

Sun Tzu - The Art of War

* * *

**A YEAR AGO**

"Do we have a case?", asked JJ as they reached the conference room. Such an early meeting rarely bode well for the agents but they took their seats nonetheless.

"Something came across my desk from Violent Crimes that I thing deserves a look" answered Hotch.

As if on cue, the familiar clicking of Garcia's heels on the conference room's carpet resonated.

"Brace yourself amigos because those particular unsubs make Bonnie and Clyde look like library book defacers in comparison", she said as she pressed a button on the remote.

Multiple images appeared on the screen, some that the team instantly identified as crime scene photos.

"A bank-robbing case? We don't often handle those", Morgan said as he picked up his tablet off the table.

"Violent Crimes called us in because they felt the robberies were less about the money than the rampage", Hotch said sternly, nodding towards the photos on the screen.

"I'll say that they were right to do so, I count sixteen victims spread over four bank jobs, is that correct?", asked Reid, flipping through the pages of his own paper file while the other agents had barely started observing the documents of the case.

Garcia nodded in response.

"Well I'd say that makes it a BAU case for sure, with that many bodies, they're either awful bank robbers, or there is something else motivating them", said Rossi.

"Victimology isn't going to help us much on this case", Morgan said, "they go for victims of both sexes and various ages".

"And they're merciless," said JJ sadly, "victim n°5 is the eight-year-old daughter of one of the bank manager, apparently they hit the bank on 'take your daughter to work' day".

"That says a lot about who we're dealing with here", said Rossi.

"Hopefully you can all discuss that part of the case on the plane, once I'm safe and sound in my cocoon of all things digital" said Garcia pointedly.

"Where are we going exactly?" ,asked JJ, perplexed.

Garcia pressed another button on the remote and a map of the U.S appeared on the screen, with certain cities circled in red.

"They never hit the same city twice actually. They started in Savannah, Georgia, then a week later they were in Jacksonville, a couple of days later they were in Baltimore, and finally yesterday they hit Atlantic City."

"Working their way north", said Reid getting up and approaching the screen, "Maybe I can try and see a pattern in the locations they choose, establish where they might strike next".

"That won't be necessary", said Hotch, handing him a plastic evidence bag, "go ahead it's already been processed".

"What is it ?",asked JJ, as Reid opened the small bag.

Reid took out a postcard, showing the Liberty Bell, he showed it to the rest of the team, as well as the message on the back: "_See you soon_".

"This was sent to the Philadelphia field office as well as an article about the most recent robbery", said Hotch ominously, "wheels up in thirty".

* * *

As the flight from D.C to Philadelphia is a short one, the team started reviewing the case immediately, baffled by the lack of evidence left behind by their unsubs, they called Garcia.

"You rang?" she said as soon as the connection was made.

"Yeah babygirl, did you get anything from the security cameras at the banks?", Morgan asked.

"Nada. They disable the whole thing once they're in, I couldn't recover anything from their system" she answered.

"Come on babygirl you're slacking", he said jokingly.

"Oh you're lucky to be 40,000 feet in the air; otherwise you'd be in for a spanking. But I've got something else for you guys, this was taken from a traffic cam, across the street from the first robbery", she said as they all reached for their tablets.

The picture she sent showed two silhouettes, in dark clothing and balaclavas. The picture was very grainy but the body types indicated that they were looking for a man and a woman.

"Garcia, have you tried cleaning this up a bit?" JJ asked the tech analyst.

"Oh my sweets this is already the final version of it" she answered.

"Thanks anyway", Reid said before biding her goodbye.

"We don't have much to go on as far as forensic goes, they use gloves, disable the cameras, kill all witnesses, and they're in and out in under 10 minutes", said Rossi.

"Not to mention the fact that the alarms weren't activated in any of the robberies, they also managed to separate the bills equipped with anti-robbery devices from the rest" said Reid.

"And how about the geographical distance between each robbery? Another forensic counter-measure?" asked JJ, looking at the map again.

"That's possible, it made it harder to link those cases together, not to mention the fact that this case travelled from one desk to another before it was given to us, once office politics were dealt with a lot of time had already been wasted" said Hotch.

"Looks like the only thing we'll be able to work with is the profile" JJ said, her eyes on the crime scene pictures.

"You and Morgan drive up to Atlantic City, take a look at the latest scene, the rest of us will work on the profile from the Philadelphia field office", he finally ordered.


	3. Chapter 2

After quickly showing their credentials to the uniform in charge of the scene, Morgan and JJ entered the bank and proceeded to retrace the steps of the unsubs based on the positions of the bodies on the photos that they had seen.

"They probably took out the two cashiers first; to make sure they wouldn't trigger the alarm," said Morgan gravely, "they probably didn't even see it coming".

"And it creates fear immediately, that way no one tries to intervene. It sets the tone." added JJ.

"Psychological torture" nodded Morgan, as they both walked around the reception area.

"Their next victim is probably the security guard, to eliminate the principle threat", Morgan said pointing to a small pool of blood where he knew the victim had been found.

"That leaves the manager and the assistant manager; they were the only one found in the vault" said JJ, walking towards it.

"One of the unsub probably assured them they'll be fine as long as they did what they were told and opened the vault for them", he sighed.

"While the partner was disabling the CCTV system and taking the footage" she said, pointing towards another room that held all the equipment, "besides it being an obvious forensic counter-measure, they might use the videos as a way to relive their crimes".

"You know, it's lucky they hit the bank so early, it could have been a lot worse during rush hours" he said.

"Wait, wasn't the robbery in Baltimore also close to opening time?" asked JJ looking at the file again.

"Yeah. Same thing for all the banks actually", said Morgan, "they pick the moment in the day with the smallest crowd to contain".

"At least we have a time window, until we know which bank they'll attack next we should increase police presence in the early morning", JJ said as both exited the bank again.

* * *

While Reid started pining pictures and maps on the evidence board, Rossi and Hotch were pouring over the autopsy reports, looking for anything that might help their profile.

"Ballistics came back on all sixteen victims. They think the unsubs were using silencers", said Rossi.

"It explains why they always have a head start on the cops, no one reports any gunshot" Hotch nodded.

"It's not all, according to this, all victims were shot by the same weapon", he added, pointing to the ballistic report.

"That points to a classic dominant/submissive partnership. One of them is goal oriented, gets the money and gets out while the other one clearly enjoys what he's doing," Hotch said.

"Considering we're looking for a man and a woman, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to assume that they are involved romantically. The woman could be under the influence of her male partner, he might use their relationship as a way to control her," Reid said, as Hotch's phone rang.

He picked it up, hung up fairly quickly and said "They've just hit another bank".

* * *

When Hotch, Rossi and Reid arrived at the bank, they found Morgan and JJ's SUV already parked out front. They had decided to stop and check out the latest crime scene on their way back from Atlantic City rather than return to the field office.

The M.E already had some of the victims in body bags.

"Same M.O?" ,asked Rossi as JJ came to join them.

"Pretty much. Except for one thing, the manager, Allan Racer, was shot in the groin as well as the head this time. The M.E thinks it might have been done post-mortem, but it's hard to say", answered JJ.

"Overkill", Reid said simply, "implies a personal connection to the victim".

"Typically it would also point to a female unsub being the shooter", Hotch said, as he observed more bodies being wheeled outside.

Morgan joined them as well, his phone in hand.

"Tell us what you got mama !" he said, as Garcia's loud typing could be heard on the other line.

"I ran a background check on all the employees, and nothing turned up on the manager, as far as I can see he's squeaky clean. But Fiona Crawford, one of the cashiers, wasn't amongst the victims today; she didn't call in sick either which is convenient **and**…pause for dramatic effect… she has been reprimanded two months ago for forging her ex-husband's signature on a whole bunch of documents. Apparently Mr Crawford has a gambling problem, drowned the whole family in debts. So she was trying to stop him from accessing their kids' college funds she set up" she said enthusiastically.

"And I don't have to ask you for her address, do I?" he asked playfully.

"Already coming to your phones!", she said before hanging up.

"A robbery that sophisticated, we should definitely consider the possibility of it being an inside job", said Hotch.

"Especially if she was struggling financially, she might have given the unsubs info in exchange for her share in the robbery", Reid concurred.

"I think you two should pay a visit to Mrs Crawford", Hotch said, nodding towards Reid and Rossi.

* * *

Fiona Crawford answered her door on the first knock. She looked tired and nervous but waved them in as soon as they showed her their credentials and she sat them down in the living room.

"I just saw the news, it's…horrible. I think I'm in shock", she said with genuine emotion.

"Can you tell us why you didn't come to work today?", Rossi asked, taking out his notebook.

"My youngest has the flu, he's been sick all night, except that when one kid gets it, they all get it", she said pointing to a framed picture of her three children, "I've been too busy to call in, and then I saw the news report…and to think I was all worried about getting fired", she sighed.

"Can you tell us what kind of boss, Mr. Racer was?" asked Rossi with compassion.

Fiona didn't answer immediately, she fidgeted with a couch cushion and said : "I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but Mr. Racer wasn't all that respectful to the female employees. The other girls were considering writing a formal complaint, suing him for sexual harassment, they tried to get me involved but I didn't want any trouble, I need this job too much".

"We thought the overkill on the manager was personal, could it be payback for the way he was treating the employees?" asked Reid, as Mrs Crawford excused herself to check on her kids.

"But who would know something like that? Garcia didn't find any dirt on him, if he was a crappy boss, he wasn't broadcasting it", said Rossi.

"I don't think we were so far off when we suggested an inside job; think about it, they erase 24hours of security footage, every time. Why?"Reid asked.

"Because they enter the bank before the robbery, that way they know everything: the position of the cameras, where each employee will be standing…" he answered.

"Mrs. Crawford, did anything unusual happen yesterday? Someone that came to the bank unexpectedly? Like a repairman, I.T guy…"he then asked, as Mrs. Crawford regained the living room.

"There was this woman..she was already in Mr. Racer's office when I arrived for work yesterday. He said she was from the Federal Reserve Board, but I thought it was strange 'cause they always call first", she said.

"Did he tell you her name?", Reid asked.

"No I'm sorry, I don't think he did, she was blonde, tall, very pretty, and Mr. Racer looked perfectly happy to show her around...".

"Do you think you could describe her to a sketch artist?" Rossi asked.

"I think so..you don't forget a woman like that," she said, not without bitterness.

* * *

_(I know the build-up is a little slow, sorry, but if you stick with it I think it will pay off. _

_By the way, English isn't my native language, so I'd love to know about any spelling errors or things that may sound awkward from a native speaker)._


	4. Chapter 3

The team assembled at the field office for a review of the case and a full load of bad coffee.

"If the woman is the dominant in the partnership, it puts a new spin on the profile" , said JJ.

"You know, shooting the manager in the groin, especially due to his history of sexual harassment, might be highly symbolic. She might have been a victim of sexual abuse herself in some way or another", Reid added.

"Maybe by someone in a position of authority even", Morgan said.

"That would explain her obsession with control, she lost it completely once, she regains it through the robberies and by sending us taunts.", Hotch said, pointing to the Liberty Bell postcard on the board, "She's showing us that she's ahead of us, and in control of the investigation".

"All of this is interesting as far as the profile goes, but we're ignoring the obvious here. They never strike twice in the same city. They're probably long gone by now", said Rossi.

"I don't think so...", said Reid.

His colleagues turned to him, expecting him to elaborate but he didn't, although there was something in his eyes that the team came to associate with impending epiphanies.

"We're profilers Reid, not telepaths, what's on your mind?" asked Morgan.

"We thought that there wasn't any logic to the banks they hit. But I think we were wrong. There appears to be an escalation in the level of difficulty in the robberies. The third bank they robbed had a security guard who used to be a member of Special Forces, the fourth had 2 million in its vault that they were transferring, that usually means an increase in the level of security" , he explained, " and the taunt that was sent to the FBI brought us here and got the whole city on high alert".

"So what you're saying is that they're going to stay in town as long as we do?" asked Hotch.

"They enjoy the challenge… You know, these two remind me of Izzy Rogers and Matthew Downs, they had a similar psychopathy and M.O", JJ said.

"They were more like symphorophiliacs, getting off on the adrenaline and the chaos they were creating. But these unsubs, seem to take pleasure in outsmarting us, telling us that we can't stop them killing, while devising the perfect M.O",said Reid.

"If the woman is behind the taunts, then we're not just dealing with a psychopath, we should add narcissism to the profile", Morgan suggested.

"I think we're ready to deliver the profile", Hotch nodded, "we should also give the sketch of the female unsub to all bank managers, warn them to keep an eye out for her".

"JJ and Reid, I want you two on the evening news. The key to break any partnership is to drive a wedge between them. That's our best chance of shattering their confidence", he added as they all got up.

* * *

The press conference took place in front of the Philadelphia field office, while inside, the rest of the team was briefing the local authorities.

Despite not being the BAU's press liaison anymore, JJ felt right at home, she showed the sketch of the woman and gave a description of the two unsubs.

It wasn't Reid's first appearance in front of the cameras, but he hated it still. It was one thing to talk in front of other law enforcement officers, but with journalists it felt very different somehow.

They talked to the male unsub directly, depicting him as being pulled into a violent spiral by a narcissistic psychopath. They minimized their relationship, telling the male unsub that he wasn't a killer yet and urged him to see through the manipulation and control she had over him.

When a reporter asked if they had any leads, they stayed evasive, but implied that they were making considerable progress in the investigation. Hoping it would put pressure on the unsubs, provoking them into making a mistake.

They eventually entered the building to escape the herd of journalists. When they met up with the rest of the team in the conference room, Garcia was on speaker phone.

"A bank manager has just reported seeing our mystery woman a few hours ago. Introduced herself as Lizzie Dickson from the the Federal Reserve Board", she said.

"That was quick", Morgan commented.

"Well when she showed up unexpected this afternoon he was surprised, and he felt her credentials were questionable. He insisted on making a phone call to verify them but when he turned around she was gone. He called as soon as he saw your press conference".

"If he saw through her ruse, there's no chance that they'll strike there", Rossi said, disappointed.

"They have to. At this point we can consider them as being on a spree, I doubt they'll stop, even if something already went wrong", Hotch said.

"Not to mention the fact that the security cameras caught her on tape, if they don't go through the robbery, and if they think the manager hasn't already given us the footage, they'll have to be there and make sure they haven't left evidence and witnesses behind", JJ agreed.

"This time we'll be there to stop them", said Hotch firmly.

* * *

If there was one thing Morgan hated more than getting up early it was lying in wait like that.

And here they were, standing in the bank, while it was still dark outside, waiting for their unsubs to make their move. At least when he was running after a subject or building the profile with the rest of the team he felt like he was doing something right, going forwards.

JJ and Rossi were waiting in the car outside, keeping an eye out for their unsubs, ready to give them the heads up if necessary.

Growing impatient, he finally said: "They're late".

"I know", Reid said behind him, "something's wrong".

"They're smart, they probably feared that we were unto them and moved to another bank", Hotch offered.

"No, it's got to be here.. It fits their M.O, the level of security is greater than the one they hit before, and they're not the type to improvise", Reid simply said.

The silence fell again until they heard JJ on the line:

"We have a possible, male subject in a ski mask approaching the bank, but it looks like he's alone".

All three agents looked at each other, thrown off course for a second; they had been expecting two people.

But they recovered quickly and all drew their weapons, as the man entered the bank, also armed.

"FBI ! Put the gun down!", ordered Hotch.

The man was completely taken by surprise and panicking, but not lowering his weapon in the slightest.

"You know that there's no way out", Hotch said, as JJ and Rossi also entered the bank, weapons drawn, "so you might as well put it down".

The man was hesitating, for a moment he lowered the gun and they all thought he might drop it, but then he looked at the security camera, and raised it again.

The shot was deafening, it reverberated through the large entry hall. It took a moment for the agents to realize that Reid had been the one to pull the trigger. But they reacted quickly. Rossi was the closest to the unsub's body, he kicked his gun away and checked his pulse. Nothing.

Reid holstered his weapon, approached the body and took off his ski mask. The man was younger than he expected, and it unsettled him slightly.

He heard a cellphone ring behind him, but he kept his attention on the man at his feet.

"Just a second babygirl, I'm putting you on speakerphone", Morgan said quickly.

"Guys? Someone's hacking the bank's system as we speak", she said, slightly alarmed.

"Our unsub..can you track her down?", asked Hotch.

"Normally yes. Except that she's good..Well, evil actually, but _good, _she's covering her tracks, I can't pinpoint her I.P address", she said with anger in her voice, "it's bouncing off multiple servers just give me a mo',".

Reid remembered the few seconds before the unsub raised his gun, he was looking at the security camera, and something changed in the man's eyes.

"She's watching us", he then said, turning his attention to the camera as well.

As he said this, the red light on the camera went out instantly.

"She's gone..I'm sorry I've got nothing", Garcia said sadly.


	5. Chapter 4

Back at the field office, the team was packing up in silence. Although they knew that they had other cases waiting for them back home and that the trail had went cold on their other unsub, it didn't make it any easier to walk away. Stopping the robberies was a small victory as long as their mystery woman was still out there.

Garcia called them as they were about to leave, but there was something in her voice that told them immediately that she wasn't bringing them good news.

"I ran the name the unsub gave to the manager yesterday, Lizzie Dickson, and I got nada, zilch, as far as I know it's completely made up. I also started the facial recognition software on the video footage that the bank sent, but she never faces the cameras directly, so I'm not sure how effective it's going to be", she said apologetically.

"So we have nothing", sighed Rossi.

"Not quite, dental records came back on your male unsub. His name is Curtis Underwood, born and raised in Georgia. He was only 22."

"Did you find any connection to our female unsub?", Hotch asked.

"Actually, I couldn't really connect him to anyone. His parents died in the car accident when he was thirteen, he was raised by an aunt who died from lung cancer a year ago", she said.

"That was the stresser", Reid said, "does he have a criminal record?".

"He had two recent arrests for possession of heroin; he got off with probation time".

"He probably met the female unsub around that time, if he was struggling with substance abuse and couldn't rely on family members for support, he might have looked to a stronger person for stability", Reid said.

There was an uncomfortable silence; it didn't take a profiler to realize that Reid empathized with the young man, and addiction was always a touchy subject with him.

* * *

The youngest agent stayed quiet during most of the flight home but since the team was tired and wasn't satisfied with the way the case ended for them, no one felt much like talking anyway.

But when Reid was still brooding back at his own desk in the Quantico bullpen, Morgan knew that there was something nagging him apart from the unspeakable amount of paperwork they were facing.

"Kid? What is it with you? You're miles away today", he finally asked him.

Reid straightened himself up a little before answering:

"I keep seeing the look in Curtis Underwood's eyes, before he raised the gun. It was desperation Morgan. Whatever she said to get him to enter the bank alone, he never thought anything would go wrong. And when it did, he chose to die rather than surrender. So I'm sitting here, thinking Curtis was our unsub's latest victim in a way".

"Reid, you know you did the right thing, right? He didn't leave us a choice", he said softly.

"Yeah, I know...I just wish things had ended differently that's all", said Reid, "but I'm okay", he added after a while, since Morgan was giving him a concerned look.

"Well that's good 'cause we're all going out for drinks, and it wouldn't be the same without you treating us to your usual alcohol-related trivia", said Garcia who had sneaked up behind them.

"I don't know..", Reid started. But no one could resist the technical analyst and soon enough he was gathering his bag and jacket to head out with them. The phone on his desk started ringing, stopping him in his tracks.

"Nuh-uh. Come on, just let central dispatch pick it up", Garcia ordered.

"Just a second guys", he said as he picked up the phone, trying to ignore the pleading looks from his two colleagues, "Yes?".

"Dr. Reid?", asked a female voice at the end of the line.

"Yeah who's this?".

"What, you don't recognize me? After all the hurtful things you said about me on national TV?".

Reid reacted quickly; he pressed the speakerphone button and made wild gestures to get Morgan and Garcia's attention.

"Tell me, did I say anything that wasn't true?", he then asked her.

"Answering a question with another question", she said, clearly amused, "I know you're just trying to open a dialogue to keep me on the line. But I'll save you some time. I have 6 million dollars and all you have is a profile and a composite sketch, quite unflattering I might add. So you do the math".

Reid was barely aware of Garcia furiously typing on a nearby computer, probably starting an emergency trace, or of Morgan waving the rest of the team over, he was completely focused on the conversation itself.

"We have Curtis. You know it's only a matter of time until we trace him back to you and to your real name, and once we do, we'll have enough evidence to confine you to a 6 by 8 feet prison cell for the rest of your life", he said.

He'd said this in such a definite and clear-cut way that it felt as menacing as Hotchner's stare or Morgan's pounding of the table during a questioning.

But the woman merely laughed and said: "You're not as smart as you think you are…actually, to answer your first question, you did say something during the press conference that wasn't true".

"Oh?", he asked, surprised.

"Yes...you see I cared about Curtis very much".

"I think the only person you care about is yourself. You knew Curtis wouldn't come out of that bank alive. Tell me, what did you say to convince him to go in without you?", Reid asked, his anger growing, "did you say that it would be better to avoid detection? That the cops would be too busy looking for a couple to connect this robbery to the others? You sacrificed him".

"Exactly. He gave everything for me. He gave his life. And I love him for it", she answered.

Unsure as to what to say next, Reid turned to Garcia, who just looked at him and shook her head to signal him that she hadn't pinpointed her location yet.

"Are you still there?", she asked, "oh I wouldn't bother with the trap and trace, even if you do get something, I'll be long gone by the time you send someone".

"Is that why you called me? To brag? To tell us we'll never catch you?", Reid asked.

"No", she said simply, "I just called to say that I'm going to have to go away for a little while. And to tell you that you should start looking over your shoulder, Dr. Reid, like I'm doing right now, because I won't go quietly, and I'm going to make you regret the day you chased me away".

She hung up immediately after that. The members of the team shared an anxious look.

"Tell me you have something babygirl", Morgan said over the dial tone.

"I wish I did angelfish", she said, biting her lower lip.

"You couldn't track her?", JJ asked, surprised.

"Honey, you know my kung-fu is the best but it kept bouncing off multiple towers, I just couldn't get a lock on it, I'm sorry", Garcia said, obviously distressed, casting a worried look in Reid's direction.


	6. Chapter 5

Reid watched as multiple people came forward and addressed the group, he always felt uncomfortable during the "sharing" part of the meeting, he often felt he was intruding on something taboo and personal.

He hadn't been to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting in a long time but when his sponsor had called, dropping hints about not having seen him in a while, he felt that it would be foolish to shut him down.

Especially since he already refused any help from Hotch who had considered putting him in protective custody, following the unsub's phone call.

Reid hadn't refused to look tough, or brave. He just didn't think she would come after him. She would lay low for a while, and plan her next move. Like a chess player. One that he both dreaded and looked forward to confronting.

He also knew that he wasn't in any physical danger per se; he felt that she was taking more pleasure in the manipulations and the mind games themselves than the actual violence and murders. The threat at the end of their conversation had been part of that, and if she was really keeping an eye on him, the last thing he wanted was for her to see him with an escort and to know that she got to him.

The past three months, ever since they left Philadelphia and put the case on hold, he had taken the habit of carrying around the files and evidence they had collected on the robberies and reviewing them. Each time he was certain that he would find something that they missed or would think of something new.

Einstein famously said that insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, each time expecting a different outcome, and his team seemed to think along those lines too.

In the past few weeks both Hotch and Morgan had reminded him that he had many unused vacation days while Rossi had sat him down and proceeded to tell him about some of the cases that never truly left him, associating each of them with one of his many divorces.

He even thought that JJ and Garcia were encouraging him to go out with them more often, out of concern.

At this point he almost wondered if his obsession might be cause enough for them to send him to the FBI shrink.

And as he reflected on that, it hit him.

How could he have missed this? He almost ran out of the room.

He knew where to look next.

* * *

He sprinted to Garcia's office, ignoring some people along the way, possibly telling him "good morning" or other things that he couldn't even process in his state of excitement.

He entered her lair without knocking and nearly gave her a heart attack; she had been multitasking, painting her nails and answering calls, and she nearly fell off her chair when he came in.

Once she had calmed down, and made herself available, he instructed her to pull up everything on Curtis Underwood again.

"Oh sweetie, I've already dug up files on everyone he ever met, known, or been arrested with. No mystery woman", she said, not sharing his enthusiasm.

"You said he was given probation time for drug possession, was he given any mandatory counselling of any kind?", he asked, looking at the screen behind her shoulder as she typed.

"Hmmm. Yeah. Judge's order. He was placed in a rehab facility with mandatory counselling", she said.

"Can you get me a list of all the psychiatrists on staff at the same time he was here?".

She nodded and in a matter of seconds, a list of names appeared on the screen.

"Alright, filter out all the men", Reid said behind her.

"Only three left", she said, "but only one of them quit her job at the same time Curtis left the rehab center and didn't leave any forwarding address".

Garcia then pointed to a single name Melinda Lester. She went on typing and the photo from her driving license appeared on the screen.

Reid frantically reached into his bag and pulled out both the multiple shots captured from the security cameras, and the sketch they had of their female unsub, he held them up to compare them to the photograph of Melinda Lester on the screen. They matched.

"It's her", he finally said.

* * *

In view of the new evidence, Garcia assembled the team in the conference room, she linked her laptop to the flatscreen as she was still pulling out new information on their unsub.

"Melinda Lester, born 1985, she's a licensed psychiatrist…", Garcia started.

"She has a degree from an Ivy League university..What makes a woman like that leave everything and go on a murderous joyride with a junky? ", JJ asked, turning her eyes to the screen.

"She preys on vulnerable people with similar violence impulses that she can manipulate. She probably could have found a better job than counselor in a government-funded rehab center, she used this place as her personal hunting grounds," Rossi explained, "until she found Curtis".

"Yeah and I can see why they connected, they probably traded sad family stories", the tech analyst went on, "Melinda Lester's father was a wealthy contractor who mostly worked abroad, he had several projects going on throughout South America in the 1980s, but from what I can see, his business was well known for imposing horrible working conditions to their employees, and he was being investigated, but he died before his arrest warrant reached him".

"How did he die?", Hotch asked.

"Accidental overdose of heart medication", she answered before gasping loudly.

"What ?", Morgan asked, turning to her.

"Well this unsub's mother seriously puts Rossi's lovelife to shame. After his death she remarried _four_ times. And the man she chose all had something in common, they were all filthy rich and they all died, _accidentally_", she said, drawing quotation marks in the air as she said 'accidentally'.

"And the police never suspected that she was a black widow?", Morgan asked.

"Oh no they definitely did, but they never found any evidence against her, they were still working the case when she died of breast cancer, three years ago".

"She was smart enough to realize that her mother was murdering these people and it probably convinced her that men were weak and disposable, like a means to an end", Reid said.

"Oh. I got something else", Garcia added sadly, "when Melinda was 15 she came to the police, said she wanted to press charges against one of her stepfather for sexual assault. But before the officer could take her statement, her mother came and took her away saying that she made up the whole thing".

"Abusive environment and completely betrayed by her only parent…Add to that the constant changes of locations and father figures in her life, it's no wonder she detached herself emotionally from anything or anyone", JJ said darkly.

"I'd love nothing more than to tell you that I can find her easy peasy now that I have her name, but the truth is, I have nothing. I don't have a recent address for her, her credit cards were canceled months ago, and her passport hasn't been scanned in any airport…She's still a ghost", Garcia concluded a little lamely.


	7. Chapter 6

Nearly six months had passed since they had gathered around the round table and dissected Melinda Lester's murders had been investigated and solved since and although Reid had insisted for the female unsub's case not to be classified as "inactive" , he had also stopped mentioning it or studying it. As infuriating as it was, he had gotten used to the idea that she might stay as elusive as the Zodiac killer or Jack the Ripper were.

But this new attitude went out the window, one morning of October when he arrived at work.

Reid was always the first to arrive; he liked to use the extra time to read his way through the many newspapers that he subscribed to. Occasionally, he would also fill in a crossword puzzle, something he used to do with Blake before she resigned.

His teammates arrived while he was starting on the Washington Post. He heard them ask how one another's weekends were and wondering if they might be lucky enough to get the next Saturday off also.

However, he lost track of the conversation immediately as his eyes rested on a particular article.

It covered a meeting between different members of Congress and a Colombian diplomat, said to be visiting the U.S for a short period of time.

But it was the picture that got his attention and the woman who appeared in it. She was standing, smiling, next to a tall man in an expensive suit. He quickly read the caption that accompanied it:

_"Hector Valencia, special representative of the Columbian government, with his wife Catherine"._

"Guys, look at that", he said, laying the paper on JJ's desk.

"What? Is Carl Sagan in town or something?", Morgan joked, approaching the desk.

"Spence..I don't know what you want me to see..", JJ started, confused.

"Lester", Reid said simply, pointing to the woman in the picture.

His friends looked at him, perplexed. The diplomat's wife was a brunette not a blonde, and her skin was considerably darker than Melinda Lester's.

Morgan handed the paper to Rossi, for him to form his own opinion.

"Reid, you can barely see anything there, the picture's small. And she looks very different from Lester...", he said.

"She dyed her hair, put on contact lenses and her skin color is consistent with a prolonged stay in a foreign country, but she can't change her bone structure and I'm telling you, it's her", he persisted, "and she's right there in D.C".

"Well…Changing names and disguising her identity is part of her M.O", admitted JJ.

"And she has links to South America through her father's business. It would have made sense for her to hide out in a familiar environment", Rossi concurred.

"I'm gonna call Hotch", Morgan said, finally convinced.

* * *

Hotch had needed something more than their collective gut feeling to agree to pick up Catherine Valencia, or as she should really be called, Melinda Lester.

Garcia informed them that the only legal papers she had on Catherine Valencia were certifications of her recent marriage to the Columbian diplomat. She couldn't find anything older than that, like a birth certificate or a degree of any kind, although she admitted that obtaining paperwork on a foreign citizen wasn't easy to begin with. She had also compared the newspaper's photograph to the picture of Melinda Lester that they had on file. The software confirmed that they matched, which was good enough for Hotch, but not enough for an arrest warrant. He asked Morgan and Reid to bring her to the Bureau, but for questioning only at this point.

When they arrived at the villa the Valencias were renting, they were asked to produce their credentials by several members of a private security firm. The couple was throwing a huge party, apparently attended by several of D.C's richest and most powerful, and it took them a long time to find the hostess.

When Morgan asked her to come with them to answer questions pretending to their investigation she didn't show any sign of panic and followed them willingly, even greetings some of her guests on her way out.

In the car, she didn't say a word; she just sat, elegant and relaxed. Not once she asked what this was all about or why she was to be interviewed by F.B.I agents.

Reid offered her a seat in one of their interrogation rooms and she thanked him warmly. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her, get her to admit that this was all an elaborate lie, but he knew that she would never let anything slip, and that she would probably enjoy this outburst on his part. Instead, he closed the door and joined the rest of his team, on the other side of the one-way mirror.

"Did she ask to consult a lawyer or anything like that?", asked Hotch, staring at her.

"No. And there's no doubt in my mind that we have the right person. She seemed completely unsurprised to have us knocking on her door", Morgan answered.

"She's a severe narcissist. She thinks she can get away with this again. And it gives her the perfect opportunity to play mind games with us and show that she's smarter than us", Reid said.

"We'll have to be smarter then. Come on", Hotch said to Reid, indicating that he'll be assisting him in questioning her.

* * *

They took the two chairs in front of her while Hotch introduced them both. Reid had never been that close to her before and he was first struck by her incredible beauty, there was definitely something magnetic about her that he imagined she had used to her advantage many times to manipulate and obtain what she wanted. However, on closer look he felt that something was completely off about her. Her smile seemed stiff; it never reached her eyes that felt cold and deeply unsympathetic to him as she scrutinized him. He dropped his gaze and immediately felt weak for doing so.

Hotch told her about the difficulty they had in finding any legal papers that confirmed her identity. But she seemed to have an explanation for everything and offered to show them the many documents that she had at home, assessing her Columbian citizenship.

Her confidence told Reid that those will probably turn out to be legit; no matter how she might have obtained them. Hotch went on anyway.

"Are you denying that this is you?", he asked, taking out Melinda Lester's picture from their case file and handing it to her.

"Well, they say we all have a twin somewhere", she smiled, barely looking at the photograph.

Hotch then showed her graphic pictures of the people who died during the robberies.

She didn't flinch or look away.

"This woman's name is Melinda Lester; we believe she fled the country nine months ago after orchestrating several armed robberies", he told her.

"Nine months ago, it's around the time you met your husband isn't it?", Reid asked, "you only got married a few days after that…".

"Hector is a romantic", she said simply, "he didn't want to wait".

"Miss Lester", he said, dropping all pretense of believing her, "we can compare your voice to the voice on the call you made a few months ago, and our facial recognition software already confirmed that this is you", he pointed to the photograph again, "there's no way out this time, and I think you're intelligent enough to see it".

She smiled and looked straight at him again, this time he held her gaze.

"I think I read an article once about facial recognition", she finally said, "a few years ago the Tampa police was testing it as a way to identify potential suspects, they had to shut down the experiment after two years because it failed to make a single match".

Both agents were slightly surprised by this demonstration of knowledge, but Reid recovered quickly;

"This was back in 2003, the technology has considerably improved since then", he said, "facial recognition has a 99% accuracy now".

"And voice recognition a 84% accuracy", she said, not bothering to pretend that she just had a vague idea of their investigative methods this time, "if we put the number of women on this planet at about 3.5 billion individuals, then it means that there are roughly five million six hundred thousand women who might correspond to both this photograph and the voice sample that you have. I don't see that holding up in front of a judge, do you?", she finally asked shrewdly.

The two men exchanged a look; there wasn't any situation or line of inquiry that she didn't seem capable of talking herself out of. But before they could ask her anything else, they heard a knock on the other side of the glass. They excused themselves and left the room.

* * *

On the other side of the mirror, the team was still there, but they had been joined by their Section Chief, Matt Cruz.

"Has she admitted anything?", he asked.

"We're not making much headway, no", Hotch admitted.

"Well you're going to have to cut her loose, I just got an earful from the Assistant Director, he's an old friend of her husband and he wants you to release her".

"But it's her, it's Lester, I'm certain of it", Reid said, starting to lose patience.

"I believe you, but we have no choice, her husband is in the Assistant Director's office along with papers giving them both diplomatic immunity, you'll need something more solid to keep her".

Ten minutes later, the team watched as Mr. Valencia put his wife into a limousine, knowing they just missed their best chance to apprehend her.

* * *

That night, Reid never went to sleep. It wasn't unusual for him to be struck by brief periods of insomnia since he had always found it hard to empty his mind.

He spent the entire night replaying the interrogation in his head. How composed and self-assured she was, how she had thwarted their evidence with facts and statistics and how she had walked out unscathed at the end.

He just wasn't used to someone beating him at his own game, and part of his frustration was due to the fact that she made him doubt himself.

He then started to feel guilty, because his obsession with Melinda Lester had made him forget all about her victims. The people she killed and their families were the best reasons to put her away, and his personal feelings towards her should be irrelevant in comparison.

He spent hours mulling this over and when the sun came out he got dressed and drove up to the Valencias' residence.

Yesterday's party-goers were gone; a maid answered the door when he rang the bell. Once he had identified himself she let him in and led him to the dining room, where the couple was taking breakfast.

While Lester looked positively delighted to see him, her husband was furious:

"My wife is done answering questions; if you need anything else you can contact us through our attorney..", he said, getting up.

"Actually it's you I came to see, sir", Reid interrupted.

Mr. Valencia was caught off guard for a moment; he then turned to his wife, hesitantly.

"Oh, it's fine, I don't mind really, I'll let you two talk", she said with considerable politeness before leaving the room.

His eyes followed her out; once she had closed the door behind her he took her place, facing Hector Valencia.

No one wants to hear that the person they married is a compulsive liar; that their spouse is responsible for multiple massacres, and Hector Valencia wasn't an exception. He contradicted him many times, particularly when he called his wife Melinda rather than Catherine, so he focused on warning him instead. Reid assured him that she was incapable of romantic feelings and likely married him to obtain a certain social status and security, that she would eventually move on, and that once she does, he might be in danger.

Mr. Valencia fought to keep his temper throughout the conversation and eventually asked the maid to escort him out. But Reid thought he might have seen a flicker of doubt in his eyes when he left, and that was enough to make the visit worthwhile.

* * *

Knowing he had done everything he could to alert Hector Valencia of his wife's deceptiveness put his mind at ease for a few days, enough to fully enjoy the birthday party his teammates organized for him a week later. Everything is easy to forget when you're surrounded by friends and cake.

However, reality caught up with him when they all regained their seats.

A large flower bouquet was waiting for him on his desk.

Garcia got immediately excited but Reid had a sick feeling about it.

"Oooooh, is there anything that we should know about?", she asked slyly.

"Yeah, what did you do to deserve flowers on your birthday?", JJ added.

"I don't know what you two have in mind but in my experience, ladies don't send flowers to guys, they just don't", Morgan said, shaking his head.

Reid was going to reach for the card but JJ beat him to it.

"Well I guess you're not such an expert on women after all", JJ said to Morgan as she showed them all the card that accompanied the flowers.

It wasn't signed; in fact it was blank except for a single imprint of a kiss in red lipstick.

Reid ignored the catcalls from his colleagues, took the card from JJ, and just said: "It's from Lester".

They all fell silent and turned to him.

"Is it signed? I didn't see anything..", JJ said, confused.

"I just know", he interrupted her.

He heard Garcia send Anderson investigating the origin of the flower delivery; he then sat down and stared at the card. He remembered being sent a similar card by Austin, the pretty bartender he had met on a case. He could hardly believe it had happened over five years ago already. They had eventually lost contact; he hadn't tried very hard to keep in touch.

His mind then wandered off to Maeve without really knowing why. Maybe because he was reminded of JJ receiving flowers from the Replicator with the "Zugzwang" mention which in turn reminded him of that terrible phonecall he got when she disappeared.

Or maybe it was because thinking about Austin somehow prompted him to recall every person he ever envisioned himself with.

But then again, when you spend 2412 hours just talking to someone, everything in life ends up reminding you of that person. It was probably the case for everyone who ever loved and lost, regardless of whether or not they had an eidetic memory.

"Hey", JJ said softly, making him jump, "Anderson went down to the front desk. A carrier in a motorcycle helmet brought the flowers. Never showed his face".

Reid nodded; he hadn't expected anything less of her.

"Are you okay?", she then asked, "you look…upset".

"She sent me carnations…I don't think she chose those by accident", he told her.

"I'm not following".

"They're highly symbolic.", he explained at fast speed, "in the Bible it is said that carnations bloomed from the fallen tears of Mary as she watched Jesus carry the cross. In many cultures they're associated with bad luck. Those are purple carnations….".

"What do purple carnations symbolize?", she asked, dreading the answer.

"They're traditionally used for funerals".


	8. Chapter 7

He opened his eyes and everything was spinning. So much so that it took a lot of control on his part not to just roll over the edge of the bed and vomit.

After a few seconds the room finally came into focus and Reid found himself in his own home, in his own bed, with a pounding headache and a terrible sense of dread.

Light was coming from his bedroom window, worsening his migraine, and he realized, astonished, that it was morning.

He racked his brain, trying to recall the last clear memory he had.

He only remembered coming home after a three-day trip to Vegas; it had been mid-afternoon when he had landed. It was morning now and he was lying on his bed, fully clothed, feeling like he was recuperating from a bad case of influenza, with no idea as to how he got there.

He stumbled into the living room and found his suitcase on the floor, next to the frontdoor. Hotch had almost forced this vacation on him after he'd received the flowers, feeling it was imperative for him to take a break and hoping that getting him out of D.C for a few days might dissuade Lester to act on her threats.

As he was running one hand through his hair, the date on his watch caught his eye. If this was truly October 20th then there was an 18-hour blank in his memory.

Multiple scenarios went through his mind. From a possible head trauma or drug-induced retrograde amnesia to things as obscure and improbable as Korsakoff's syndrome or acute meningoencephalitis.

He didn't seem to be able to focus on a single thought or to reach any logical conclusion.

Frantically looking around for his phone, he considered calling the team.

But before he could locate it, there was a tremendous noise and he saw his door violently coming off its hinges and dropping to the floor in front of him. Before he could even comprehend what had happened, he was ordered by a complete SWAT team to lie flat on the ground, hands behind his back.

He obeyed under the sheer surprise of his living room being forcefully invaded and because he hoped it would stop everyone from screaming various things that he could barely grasp. He felt someone cuffing him; the officer's knee was keeping him pinned to the floor and he could feel the vibrations of multiple pairs of boots going through every room in his apartment as well as hear what sounded like low-voiced gossiping from his neighbors, out in the hallway.

It's only when he was put on his feet again and led out of the room that the amount of trouble he was in was made clear to him:

"Spencer Reid, you're under arrest for the murders of Hector and Catherine Valencia".

* * *

He was put in an interrogation room. When an officer asked him if he had understood his rights, he had to restrain himself from telling him that under normal circumstances he'd be able to explain to him the entire history of the Miranda warning.

He waived his right to a lawyer but used his phone call to contact Hotch. If the situation wasn't what it was, he might have been worried about sounding so distraught and out of it on the phone.

No one had asked him any questions so far, or answered any of his either. He knew it was on purpose, they were either trying to provoke some kind of reaction from him by letting him stew or they were using this time to build a strong case against him to secure a confession.

He eventually got up, (thankful not to have been handcuffed to the table), approached the one-way mirror, and feeling somewhat foolish, he began to talk.

"Anybody there?", he first asked, "I need medical attention. I'm experiencing dizziness, nausea, memory loss…I think I have been drugged and I need a blood test before the substance metabolizes".

Nothing.

He started pacing around the room, running his hands over his own body, looking for injection marks. After rolling up his sleeves he found one in the crook of his right arm. Although this obviously took him back to a darker time, he was more surprised than upset.

If Lester was behind this whole charade, and he was quite certain that she was, he would had expected something more discrete from her, like a tiny subcutaneous injection on his scalp, something barely visible to the naked eye.

He faced the glass again and exposed his arm to an audience he wasn't even sure was there.

"See?", he said.

The door behind him opened at last. Although he had met several members of the D.C police over the years he didn't know the man who stepped into the room. He introduced himself as Detective Cutler and asked him to sit back down. He did, requesting a doctor again. But the detective ignored him, handing him a file instead.

Reid opened it, very conscious that Cutler was observing his reactions.

It consisted for the most part of 8x10 glossy pictures of the Columbian diplomat, lying face down in a pool of blood in his backyard.

"Hector Valencia", he nodded sadly.

"He was found dead in his house this morning, took two in the chest", confirmed Cutler.

"Melinda Lester", Reid said simply.

"Who?".

"She goes by Catherine Valencia too, and God knows how many other names", he told him.

"Funny you should mention her", Cutler said, and indicated that Reid should go on flipping through the photographs.

The last picture showed a view of the Valencias' living room, their immaculate white sofa was covered in blood as well as the ground around it.

"We found about 4 pints of her blood at the crime scene, my guys are looking for the body as we speak", the detective said.

"You won't find it", Reid said, and realizing Cutler might take that as a confession or a taunt he added: "She's extremely resourceful and has knowledge of police work, my guess is she's long gone by now, she shot her husband and left enough evidence at the scene to make you believe in her own death".

"You think she's alive?", the detective asked, surprised, "the M.E said there was too much blood for her to have survived".

"Are you sure it's her blood?", he asked.

"It matches the DNA that the crime lab collected from her hairbrush".

"She always plans ahead; she could have had her own blood drawn in advance over a period of months or weeks just for this eventuality", Reid persisted.

Cutler stared at him, and for a second he looked like he was about to laugh at how crazy this all sounded.

But instead he shook his head and reached across the table for an enlarged picture of Mr. Valencia's body.

"We also found a print on the vic's watch", he said, pointing to it, "Would you care to venture a guess as to whose it is?".

"I'm not in a guessing mood", he said, although he thought he had a pretty good idea where this was all going.

"Yours, agent Reid".

He had been expecting it and therefore said nothing.

"The M.E puts time of death between 9.00 and 12.00 last night, can you account for your whereabouts during that time?"

"I wish I could", he said testily.

"We talked to an employee who reported seeing you having an argument with Hector Valencia a few days ago", Cutler said.

"Argument? No I wouldn't call it that".

"She said she had to escort you out", the detective persisted.

Reid urged him to talk to his unit chief, to look at the Melinda Lester's case, to get a technician to test his blood for sedatives. But Cutler didn't appreciate being ordered around in his own station and he seemed to have made up his mind about the whole thing anyway.

"Alright let's take a break", he finally said before leaving him on his own again.

* * *

To his great relief, the next person to enter the room was Hotch.

Reid opened his mouth and closed it immediately. He didn't know what to say or where to start, but looking at Hotch he felt he understood the situation completely.

"I know", he said, nodding, "D.C police already briefed me".

"They found my prints on his body, Hotch", he said.

"They told me. And between that and the argument you had with the victim, they're already building a case against you…Valencia had a lot of friends in high places, the commissioner is getting a lot of pressure to get results and right now you're looking good for it".

Reid shifted nervously on his seat. He had never told Hotch about visiting the Valencias on his own; he knew he had overstepped his boundaries then.

But there was only concern in is unit chief's voice, not a trace of criticism.

"Can't the Bureau take over?", he asked, hopeful.

"I wish. Our internal affairs is keeping an eye on it, but to make sure that the investigation is by the book, the D.C police will keep running it", Hotch said, apologetically, "we're just here as a professional courtesy".

The silence fell as Reid processed the information. He was losing his initial confidence that this might all get cleared up quickly and was starting to seriously panic.

"I already talked Cutler into getting a lab tech in here to get you that blood test", Hotch said, "Hopefully we can find some answers for your memory loss, because right now that's not helping you".

"I didn't do it Hotch !" , he said, louder than he meant to.

"You don't have to convince me, Reid", Hotch said firmly, "I'm just saying, it makes it harder to prove that you had nothing to do with this".

He nodded and asked: "Have you been to the crime scene yet?".

"They let Rossi take a look around. He didn't find much. But I sent JJ and Morgan at your place, to look for signs of foul play".

* * *

Morgan and JJ went through the gaping hole that the police had left behind after kicking the frontdoor down. A complete forensic team was now looking through all of their friend's things.

"This is crazy", JJ sighed as she watched someone put Reid's service weapon into an evidence bag.

"I know...But the best thing we can do to help him right now is to put the pieces together", Morgan said.

She nodded and they started looking around as well, but they felt incredibly uncomfortable snooping around in their friend's apartment, they did it all the time at unsubs' homes and the idea that Reid was now in the same situation was deeply unsettling.

The first thing they realized was that his apartment had no alarm and that the entrance downstairs wasn't covered by any traffic camera…If Lester had somehow managed to get inside and wait for him there, then there would be no proof of it.

"I don't get it, his bag is next to the door", he said, pointing to it, "and he's wearing the same clothes he did when he came home…So she had to get the drop on him as soon as he went through the door…And yet there's no sign of a struggle here".

"Yeah, and no defensive wound on Reid either", she added.

"So how did she manage to control him enough to inject him with something?", Morgan asked.

"I think I know", JJ suddenly said.

She crouched down next to the couch, put on a pair of latex gloves and retrieved a small object from under it.

"What is it?", he asked.

"It's a Taser dart. It must have rolled off,".

She was about to bag it but stopped mid-gesture when she saw an officer coming out of the bedroom, and putting a bloody shirt into a sealed evidence bag.


	9. Chapter 8

Reid picked at the cotton on the crook of his arm; the officer from the crime lab had just left and Hotch had stepped out of the room to talk to the rest of the team.

He wasn't sure he wanted to be left to his thoughts right now, and being kept out of the investigation was complete torture to him.

After what felt like ages, his unit chief came back, along with detective Cutler.

"Memory's coming back?", the detective asked, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"No, it's still hazy", he said before turning to Hotch, "did you find something at my place?".

He told him about the taser dart that was found, but Cutler glanced at him, to remind Hotch that this was, after all, his interrogation.

"It's not all they found", the detective said, handing him a picture of what he recognized as one of his shirt, covered in blood.

"This was found on your bathroom floor. Is it yours?", he asked.

Reid nodded and said: "But it should be in my closet, I haven't worn it in weeks".

"The blood spatters indicate that the person who killed Hector Valencia was wearing this shirt".

"Lester must have been wearing it to commit the murder, she tased me, injected me with something and then she had access to everything, my prints, my clothes…"

"To your gun too?", the detective asked, cutting him mid-sentence, " ballistics confirmed that Hector Valencia was shot with a 38, it matches the caliber of your service weapon, three rounds have been fired from it".

"I didn't fire those shots; you can test my hands for residue", he said.

"You would have had all the time to wash your hands since. And we did find residue on the shirt", Cutler said.

"Look, I'm with the FBI", Reid said, growing tired of the conversation, "do you really think I would have kept all this incriminating evidence in my apartment if I had killed these people?".

"Where is Catherine Valencia's body?", Cutler asked suddenly, perhaps trying to startle him into a confession.

"You're making a mistake detective", he heard Hotch say behind him.

An officer opened the door and handed Cutler a piece of paper.

"Is that my test results?", Reid asked.

The detective ignored him, he left the room, signaling to Hotch that he should follow him.

* * *

"Hey? Kid?".

Reid woke up with a start, Morgan was shaking him awake. Disoriented, he looked at his watch, he'd been here for 10 hours, no wonder he'd fallen asleep on the interrogation table.

And to think he could be kept here for as long as 48hours !

"What's happened?", Reid asked, "where's Hotch?".

"With Cruz, back at Quantico, putting out a lot of political fires".

"What did my blood test show?".

"They didn't find any substance that would have kept you sedated for 18hours or caused your amnesia", he said apologetically.

"This type of drugs metabolizes quickly", Reid sighed, not hiding his disappointment.

"But they found Dilaudid in your system", Morgan added.

"I've been clean for ages, Morgan", he said after a long silence.

"Kid, trust me, I believe you", his friend nodded, sitting on the table, facing him.

"Lester probably faked her own death when her husband started to see through the con, and she knew we were getting closer, she had to drop this identity", Reid ranted, getting up to pace the room, " I think she saw this as the perfect opportunity to destroy me in the process…framing me for the murder, discrediting me...It's psychological torture, she likes to play games…".

"Hey hey ! Reid! Calm down", Morgan interrupted him, "you're missing the main thing here…how did she even know about the Dilaudid?".

Reid stopped in his tracks. "I have no idea", he said.

"Have you talked to someone about this recently?", Morgan asked.

"It's not exactly something I go around babbling about", Reid said, losing patience.

"Come on kid, I need you to focus and think back. How would she have known about all of this?".

Reid sat back down, racking his brain.

"Narcotics Anonymous meetings", he finally said, "it's the only place I talk about these things".

"Alright, good", Morgan said softly, "do you remember seeing Lester there?".

"How am I supposed to remember that?", he asked irritably.

"You have an eidetic memory!".

"And it has its limits, you know! I can't remember one particular face in a crowd of 30 to 40 people, I don't even know when this happened, she could have been stalking me for days", he said putting his head in his hands.

He felt Morgan put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, we're gonna figure it out, alright? It's gonna be okay".

"Come on Morgan, you've looked at the evidence, right? We've convicted with less than that", Reid laughed humorlessly.


	10. Chapter 9

The team assembled a few days later, in their conference room, going through the elements of the case, again and again.

Despite their protestations, Reid had been taken by Cutler to the county jail, waiting arraignment.

Cruz had done everything to try and stop it, calling all his contacts, but so far, nothing.

It was a complete nightmare for the agents who felt angry and powerless, as well as guilty for letting Reid down.

Especially since the youngest agent had put on a brave face, assuring them that he'll be alright and that all he needed was for them to keep working the case.

The best way to prove his innocence was to find Lester, to show that she was indeed alive.

But Garcia, much to her dismay, couldn't find any trace of her.

Cruz suggested that perhaps they should go and get some sleep, but they all refused and he stayed as well, reviewing their files and making suggestions, until his phone rang.

The other agents turned to him; they knew a late night phonecall was never good news.

"That was detective Cutler", Cruz said after hanging up, "Reid escaped from the county jail".

* * *

The team met up with the detective in front of the Sibley Memorial Hospital, they made it there in a few minutes due to Morgan's driving and the low late-night traffic.

"What happened?", Hotch asked the detective.

Cutler didn't answer immediately; he told them to follow him and went through the ER's automatic doors.

"2hours after my officer brought your teammate to the county jail; I get a call, saying that he'd gotten into a fight with another guy there. Two officers escorted him here, the doc stitched him up and took a few x-rays and said agent Reid had to stay here for the night. So I put an officer at his door", he pointed to a man in uniform, giving his statement, "your friend was sedated and handcuffed to the bed. My officer went to sign some paperwork, couldn't have taken more than 2minutes, and when he came back this is what he found", he said, opening the door to an examination room.

The team looked inside the room. Medical tubes had been disconnected and thrown on the ground.

A single pair of handcuffs was dangling from the bed.

The agents shared a look.

"What?", Cutler asked, irritated.

"Spence is sort of an amateur magician…", JJ said hesitantly.

"You have got to be kidding me", Cutler said, "your agent made it out with the belongings of the next-door patient, he left his prison uniform behind so the dogs can't get a trace on him. Does that sound like the behavior of an innocent guy to you?".

"To me it sounds like the behavior of a guy who's got his back against the wall actually", said Morgan, "he's desperate; he's in tunnel vision right now".

Cutler walked away, shaking his head and barking orders at his men.

* * *

Thanks to his correspondence with Maeve, he now had a mental map of all remaining phone booths in D.C, and he chose one that he felt he could reach on foot while still being at a comfortable distance from the hospital.

After getting inside, he checked his distorted reflection in the metallic surface of the phone.

Reid had already diagnosed himself with a severe concussion and two cracked ribs, but the amount of subdermal hematoma made his whole face look like one angry bruise, and he almost had to squint through both black eyes to see.

The adrenaline was probably masking the excruciating pain and he tried not to think about the time when he'll finally be able to feel it.

It had been easy to get the other inmate to hit him, he had profiled him as having a short temper and had known just what to say and which button to push.

He also briefly wondered why the standard prison jumpsuit was bright orange, since this color had been proven to increase feelings of anger and hostility in the human mind.

Taking out the wallet he had recovered from the stolen bag, he inserted some coins in the slot, composed the number, and waited.

"Technical analyst, Penelope Garcia speaking".

The absence of a witty greeting and the lack of enthusiasm in her voice made him feel guilty; he knew how her teammates' issues always affected her personally.

"Hey", he said with a small voice.

"Oh my God, Reid, are you okay? We've been so worried about you!".

"That's why I'm calling, so that you guys all know that I'm okay", he said, "I can't stay long though; I know how fast you can trace a call".

"Oh honey", Garcia said with great sadness, "I'd never do that to you".

"You should! Escaping custody can be classified as a federal offence and you work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation", Reid said reasonably.

He heard her laugh, probably at how rational he was being about this, but he thought he could also hear her sniveling and he found himself tearing up as well.

He remembered the phone call he made to her during the outbreak of Anthrax; he had been very scared and emotional then too. He had thought that he'd grown much tougher since then and felt weak for shedding tears again.

"Anyway…I thought I'd say goodbye".

"Reid- ?!".

He hung up before completely breaking down.

* * *

Garcia immediately played the recording of the call to the team. She had hoped that this would help somehow, that her friends would come up with new ideas on how to fix this.

Unfortunately, it only emphasized just how stuck and lost they really were. It was an impossible situation.

"Alright, I get it, it's the end of the line for us", Garcia said, tears running down her cheeks, "but I can't help it. I just hate that he's going through this alone".

"You're right", Hotch finally said, "he doesn't have to be".

He took out his phone and hit a number on his speed dial.

"Who are you calling?", Rossi asked.

"An old friend", Hotch simply said.


	11. Epilogue

The money he found on the wallet he stole had bought him a couple of bus tickets to get as far as possible, and a few nights in cheap Mexican motels along the way.

But it was running low and his mind kept wandering off to troubled thoughts and worries about the future.

He couldn't focus on the book he was reading, Robinson Crusoe. He had found it abandoned under his seat during his first bus ride, but the helplessness and loneliness of the main character didn't do much to improve his own state of mind.

The heat was also getting to him. Who knew it could get so hot in the middle of December? He kept telling himself that he grew up in the desert, but the fact is, he'd grown used to the weather in D.C and missed it intensely.

Maybe he should have quit a year ago, when he got shot on that case in Texas. Every time he got seriously injured he would consider it. Not because he was afraid of dying, he'd been there and back, and if there's anything this job taught him, it's that there are things much worse than death.

What he really feared was leaving his mother on her own, and now he didn't know if and when he'll get to see her again.

He was brought out of his reverie by someone approaching him from behind.

"Is this seat taken?"

Although the question was in Spanish there was no mistaking that voice. Reid looked up from his book, and smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. A familiar face would do that to you, whether you mean to or not. He put his book down on the table and silently invited her to join him. She sat opposite him and pointed to the full glass in front of him.

"Is that Tequila?" she asked, in English this time, and clearly surprised.

"It's not what I ordered, but my Spanish is abysmal. Of course it is entirely possible that they never heard of Arnold Palmer over here", he said, as both looked around the small café.

Prentiss laughed, took one of his hands in hers and gave it a squeeze.

Taking off his sunglasses, and revealing two black eyes at a late stage of healing, he asked with a small voice; "How did you find me?".

"You might be a genius but I know all the best hiding places", Prentiss answered sadly.

She had set out to find him immediately after Hotch had called. No one could understand his fears and his desire to disappear better than her. She had once lived in the shadows too, and was familiar with the alienation that came with it.

"I'm not hiding", he finally said, looking straight at her.

"Then what are you doing?", she asked softly.

Reid didn't answer immediately; he let anger and revenge scenarios fill him up for a moment, he thought about everything he lost and left behind.

He knew he wasn't meant to keep on running; he was supposed to regain his strength, wait for Lester's next move and make sure that it is her last.

He looked around again and simply said "I'm waiting".

" 'Attaboy", she said, giving him an encouraging smile. She then reached for his glass and drank his untouched Tequila straight up.

* * *

**END**

* * *

_Nothing is ever lost as long as courage remains. _

Napoleon

* * *

_I know, I know. It's an incredibly underwhelming ending. But this is as far as I ever imagined this story going because I always envisioned it ending ambiguously. Where the main character is broken, defeated and considered as an outlaw .The idea was that he was preparing his badass return and that you could imagine him eventually clearing his name and epically crushing his sworn enemy._

_I wrote it mostly because every super smart person should have an equally smart evil enemy, like Holmes and Moriarty, the Doctor and the Master, Tesla and Edison…_

_And the epilogue/prologue thing goes full circle and everything in between shows you how he got there._

_But now I'm sort of chickening out of that concept 'cause I totally want the good guys to win._

_(Besides, I didn't think anyone would actively follow the story and now I feel like I'm cheating you of a proper resolution to this gigantic mess)._

_So I'm considering doing a follow-up fic. _

_Potentially including things such as: Prentiss & Reid taking the fight to another continent, the involvement of INTERPOL, the eventual downfall of Lester, and an interesting love interest for Reid._

_(Just some stuff I'd like to include, I don't have a precise plot yet)._

_If this is something worth doing and reading, please let me know in the reviews or by private messages, whichever._

_(If just one person would like to see this continue, I'll be happy to do it)._


End file.
